His hand caresses my neck. I close my eyes. “I think I'd like to see you kiss my foot. How about you."
"You're a sadistic prick,” I pant. “You know that?"
"Put your lips on my shoe, Caroline."
"No."
He takes my panties and rips them apart in his hand, leaving nothing between his wrath and my naked flesh. “Last chance,” he says.
"I said no…” I'm morbidly curious, I want to skate that edge.
I see him double the belt out of the corner of my eye, his arm raises with practiced ease and I feel this bizarre jealousy because it's obvious he's done this before, a lot, and I don't want to think of Thomas’ son beating other asses and degrading other girls. Not when he's with me.
I tell myself it's just my vanity; at least I hope it is.
The belt lands with a crack and all of a sudden the romance of corporal punishment is gone. This hurts … a lot.
The safety word … is it time?
Thomas always had one with me, though it was not really a big thing.
Ours varied from day to day, all kinds of silly things, inside jokes. I never used it, though, not once. We simply never made it to the edge-there was always so much room to explore within our boundaries. The only problem was he never had enough time, enough energy.
"Brian,” I say. “Di-” The syllable hangs in the air.
"Caroline? What are you trying to say? Are you using the word?"
I'm testing him, making sure he won't do anything if he even thinks I might use the word. I can see he is holding back, respecting. I decide to throw myself to the wolves.
"No, I am telling you I'm not kissing your fucking foot, that's all!"
Brian goes to work; five hard lashes that leave me twitching. I writhe in agony as he beats me, I try so hard to get up but he holds me down, his other hand on the small of my back. I have nowhere to go, I am trapped.
"I can do this all day,” he takes a break. “How about you?"
He's made his point. I put my lips to his foot. His boot is dusty. I hate that he's making me play the game this way-making me humiliate myself to get any more sex. On the other hand, I am getting so hot…
"Satisfied?” I spit.
"Lick it."
Me and my big mouth … can never leave well enough alone.
He can't leave well enough alone either, bending over and pushing two fingers down into my freely available pussy from behind.
Pleasure courses through me, mixed with dirty shame. Licking the rug has now become a sexual act, albeit a decidedly kinky one.
Brian yanks the panties out from underneath me as I kneel back up. He sniffs them, audibly. “Fresh and wet. Guess we haven't hit your limits yet,” he dabs at my pussy, sopping the material further, then turns me over onto my back, my ass pressing into the carpet, the contact making me moan.
"Open wide,” he orders.
I whimper as he makes me take my underwear for a gag. I'm scandalized at how aroused I am. This shouldn't be. I shouldn't have agreed, I shouldn't have wanted … and I most certainly shouldn't need more of it.
"Can you spit them out?” he wants to make sure before he continues. “To say the word."
I nod, almost angry. I don't want to be reminded this is all fake. I just want to be dominated and controlled.
"Crawl to the bed, then, slut. Get on all fours."
Is he going to use me? I can't ask, I can't discuss, can't resist. Not part of this menu. I wonder if I'll get sick of it any time soon. I get up on the mattress, facing the headboard.
I wait, I anticipate, I yearn. Reduced to one great big fucking cavity. Or is that one big cavity for fucking?
"You better be good, cunt."
The words, so bitter and mean and demeaning go right through me.
"I have high standards."
This is so weird, I think. Men used to do me this way and it was only ever to bring me down to their piss poor level. But this isn't like that. I'm in charge, or least I have the veto power. And Thomas is the one who made me strong enough to play like this. In uncharted territory. With his own son.
"You don't hold back on me, understand? I want the fuck of my life. Or your night will get unpleasant in a hurry,” he says huskily, sounding like the biggest psycho from any movie I have ever seen.
I offer up my cunt. I drop to my elbows, drooling from my saturated, ripped and soiled panties. I offer up my body, my whipped ass.
I'd say yes, Master, but I can't say anything at all.
He slams himself to the hilt, immediately condemning me for my wet and open state. “That was pathetically easy. You really are a whore. Let's see how you take it up the ass, instead."
I stiffen. This isn't in the plans, not that we have any.
Thomas hasn't even been there.
"Don't shake your head no at me, Caroline. No isn't in your new vocabulary, is it?"
"Is it?” He repeats, massaging my clit.
Ffffuck.
I moan. Cunt in heat. I move against his finger, obsequious, servile.
"No coming. Not just yet.” He denies me.
My cunt becomes a source of lubricant and nothing more as he scoops out what he needs for the narrower channel.
Spit out the panties, Caroline. Call this off…
I'm in over my head … I'm in this bizarre place … if I didn't feel Thomas’ presence in all this I would freak. Even so I am on the sharpest of edges.
If only I didn't seem to like it there … in this roller coaster kind of way.
Brian is naked behind me, he is hard all over, his erection is already pressing into place. Time, I need more time…
Then he does this most peculiar thing. He puts his hand on the back of my neck. “You're not alone…"
I swear it's just a sadistic ploy, to keep softening me up for more pain, to keep me from ending his fun.
His touch has its desired effect. I relax, I open.
Before I can close again, I am invaded. It is slow, sweet and dream-like, born of the darkly sensuous recesses of the mind, where the little animals run free.
"That's it,” he whispers. “Take it like the good little ass slut you are."
And there's the difference-what makes it possible with Brian and maybe with no one else. He has the ability to make it mental when I can't handle the physical and then, when the mental starts playing tricks on me, he flips it back to physical again.
I need to be called an ass slut. I need the attention or I couldn't take this, couldn't see what's good in this.
It's tight, for one thing, it's being filled in the wrong channel, it's naughty, it's thumbing your nose at society like Brian says. It's also a goddamn tease, because I can't get my pussy satisfied. I'm aching all over; I'm living, breathing in this space of prolonged, Tantric need.
The bottom line, pardon the pun, is not society or Tantric sex.
In the end, pardon second pun, I am gagged and being fucked at Brian's prerogative. I wasn't asked, oh, god, I wasn't asked. Do you know what pressure that takes off me? Daddy helps me grow every day, but it can be work. And there are always things in the back of my mind.
Not now. Brian doesn't give a fuck.
Isn't that amazing?
He is restraining himself, I can tell. It's not a cop out, just a recognition I have limits. This is no monster, he really is on double, and triple alert because I can't shout out, can't cry a safety word.
"You need to be widened,” he tells me.
I try and will myself to be more of a hole … but that won't do it. He means something needs to be done to me…
"We'll work on that."
New resistance. Not so much what he might work on, but the fact that I'd have to get to this point again. From out of my normal life.
Not sure I can do that.
"Methinks the lady doth protest,” he quotes Shakespeare, rather incompletely to my mind.
Oh, god, he's after my clitoris. Using his finger. Not cool. Not fucking cool.
"Ever wear a butt plug, Caroline? I imagine not. They can be uncomfortable for little girls like you, but they are good for keeping you in line. And they have the added bonus of permanently loosening you up. You want that, don't you? To take my cock deeper and deeper each time."